


Mother Knows Best

by littlechinesedoll



Series: Bribing Werewolf Puppies With Food [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Family, M/M, PackMom!Stiles, Papa!Derek, Possible Mpreg, pack fluff, puppy betas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-08
Updated: 2012-10-08
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlechinesedoll/pseuds/littlechinesedoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek notices that the pack is uncharacteristically well behaved, and there haven’t been any brawls or maiming caused by the usual bickering the past few weeks. He’s getting suspicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mother Knows Best

Stiles didn’t know _why_ he even bothered putting up with these wolves. 

He pushed the cart into the cereals aisle, taking the ones Derek liked, and some he didn’t like for the pack. He took some of the normal cornflakes (because Derek’s boring and he likes those), then some of the frosted ones, some Cheerios and Froot Loops since Isaac liked that one, and some few (more like a dozen) boxes of pop tarts since every single puppy went Hunger Games for it in the morning. 

Jackson tried to take one of those cookie looking cereals and he stopped him from putting it in the cart. “Whoa there, puppy, can’t let you take that one,” he put the box back on the shelf. 

“Why not?!” said Jackson, watching Stiles push the cart out of the aisle to get a few gallons of milk from the refrigerators at the end. “You got the Froot Loops for Isaac!” 

“And you get the Cheerios and pop tarts like everybody else, and because Isaac is the only good puppy,” said Stiles, putting the gallons of milk under the cart. “Derek doesn’t like it when you guys crowd the counter with boxes during breakfast--hey, you’re the one with superpowers here. Push the cart. It’s getting too heavy for me,” he left the cart for Jackson to push. 

Jackson rolled his eyes, and pushed the cart. He followed Stiles through the supermarket. He couldn’t believe he’d been reduced to pushing the cart for someone he used to bully. 

“Can we get this?” 

Stiles almost dropped the cans of SPAM he was holding when Scott’s voice darted through his thinking. “Goddamit, Scott!” said Stiles, putting the cans in the cart. “What the hell?” 

“I was just asking if we could get this,” Scott held up something Stiles didn’t even bother look at. 

“No,” he said, moving to get some other type of canned goods. 

“You didn’t even look at it!” said Scott incredulously. 

“And you’re not the one paying for this!” Stiles turned around to look at him. “May I remind you that every time I go grocery shopping, we use Derek’s credit card. So it’s my job to get what you guys need, and not what you guys want--” then he saw what Scott had held up. It was a butterscotch mix. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. Put that back.” 

“C’mon, Stiles!” Scott whined. 

“No. I am so not using any mix to make brownies,” No way in hell. His mom taught him better than that. Derek told him better than that (even if Derek couldn’t cook, but he cooked like how Derek’s mom cooked). “Jackson, you go get another cart, and Scott, you push this one. We’re making brownies the old fashioned way when we get home,” 

Stiles smiled as he heard a ‘Fuck yeah!’ from both werewolves while picking other canned goods from the shelf. Baked goodies were his ultimate weapon against werewolf puppies. 

~*~*~*~

Thank God Derek was rich. He’d given Stiles a credit card to use for everything the pack needed, and everything for the Hale house (like toiletries, Tide and Downy, and similar needs). This wasn’t what he had signed up for when he and Scott agreed to join the pack about a year ago, but it was the role he was given: Pack Mom. Sure he had a few panic attacks when Derek told him he’d been one all along, but it was okay. He just didn’t know it’d be this troublesome. Fulfilling, but troublesome. At least he’s already had a lot of practice when the time came that he’d father his own children.

And he actually enjoyed it since he cooked for his dad, and now he was cooking for a pack of werewolves and their grumpy alpha. The only difference was he cooked about twenty times as many, and it was a huge pain in the ass when he had to clean up after some kind of not-werewolf thingy attacking Beacon Hills. Cleaning up included looking after the (sometimes destroyed) house (which all the puppies would be rebuilding the next day); doing the laundry (dried blood stains were a bitch to take out and he and Derek didn’t want the betas’ parents asking why there were blood stains on their clothes); telling his dad not to shoot Derek because of the trouble in town, and feeding the said pack, among others. 

The jeep pulled up in front of the renovated Hale house, where everybody spent their weekends, and days after school. He and Scott got out of the jeep and started to pull out the groceries. Jackson’s Porsche arrived a few moments later, and helped. 

Derek stood at the porch, watching them. Jackson never helped with the groceries before, and he noticed that he and Scott weren’t in a brawl like they always were. “What’s for dinner?” Derek asked as Stiles went up the steps and gave the alpha a kiss on his cheek. 

“Your mother’s lasagne, and Scott and Jackson, miraculously--thanks, Jackson,” he said when Jackson took the bags in his hands to take inside. “As I was saying, Scott and Jackson miraculously agreed on asking for some herbed chicken parmesan and I’m making some Caesar salad for you. And I’ll get right to it,” 

Derek raised a brow as Stiles followed his betas to the kitchen. Scott and Jackson agreed on the same stuff? And Jackson took the groceries from Stiles’ hands? He shook his head. Something was seriously wrong. But he ignored and he, too, followed, and saw Erica and Isaac join in restocking the pantry while Stiles put out the pots and pans he’d be using to make dinner. 

“Alright, everybody out of my kitchen!” said Stiles, making shooing gestures with his hands as he gave his jacket to Scott to take to the living room so he could start cooking. He put on a blue frilly apron (nobody said a word because Stiles would again be using his cooking skills against them) with all of his culinary confidence and put out what he needed for the butterscotch brownies Jackson and Scott had asked for. 

The Alpha watched his betas leave the kitchen quietly and make their way to the living room, where Erica and Isaac sat down on the carpeted floor and resumed playing some board game on a tablet, Jackson and Scott joined Danny on the couch to watch some crime series, and Boyd was on one of the chairs far from the TV, reading a book. Again, something was really wrong. There was no way his pack was this well behaved at any given time. Derek let it slide again this time.

“What are you making?” Derek snaked his arms around Stiles’ waist, hugging him from behind as Stiles started on making the butterscotch brownies. 

“Butterscotch brownies ala mode,” answered Stiles, mixing all the dry ingredients in a bowl. “For dessert later. I bought a few gallons of ice cream because you guys eat ice cream like you drink milk, seriously. You guys would probably already have diabetes if you weren’t wolves. I don’t even eat that much ice cream. I mean I could probably take on the challenge with curly fries eating but ice cream? No thanks. I’d rather not spend half a day in the bathroom--”

“Stiles?” Derek took a lungful of Stiles’ scent. It was like breakfast, like newly pressed clothes and maybe sweets in the oven. Just like home.

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up and cook,”

“Okay, now go melt this in the microwave, Sourwolf,” Stiles gave him a bowl of two sticks of butter.

Derek let go and melted the butter in the microwave. He watched Stiles move around in the kitchen (the kitchen he forced Stiles to design and decorate), switching back and forth from making the dessert to their dinner. He took the bowl of butter out of the microwave and set it on the counter for Stiles to use. 

“I’ll leave you to your kitchen, Stiles.” He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ temple. 

“I’ll call everybody when dinner’s ready,” Stiles said as Derek exited the kitchen. 

~*~*~*~*~

Derek closed the doors to the living room, and it caught the attention of his betas. “Alright, what did you do?” he studied the looks on every single one of them. All looked confused, but Derek decided he wasn’t going to fall for it if they were acting, but there weren’t any rising heart rates. 

Danny muted the TV, Isaac closed the laptop, and Scott put away his phone. He’d just texted Allison and Lydia to come to the den. 

“What?” said Scott, looking at his alpha like he’d grown two heads. 

“What do you mean what did we do?” asked Jackson. He earned a quick glance from Erica, who decided not to say anything. 

He caught a whisper from Danny to Jackson. “We’re in trouble?” even he sounded like he didn’t know what was going on.

“If we did something you’d know, right?” said Isaac, looking up at him from his spot on the floor. The board game app he and Erica were playing with earlier was gone and they were now on Isaac’s laptop watching random videos on YouTube. 

“You’ve been suspiciously well behaved the past few weeks. Spit it out.” Derek’s brows shot up, expecting an answer. 

All six werewolves exchanged looks, then looked back at Derek. “Uh...nothing?” said Scott carefully. 

“Honestly, we haven’t done anything,” said Isaac, trying to convince Derek that in fact, they were all innocent of what Derek was accusing them of. “If we had accidentally mauled someone, the news’ll get to you faster than you can dial 911,” 

“Or probably you’d hear it on your Camaro’s radio if you accidentally pushed the AM button—OW!” Jackson gave Danny an almost angry look when the newest member of the pack elbowed his upper arm. 

“Don’t piss him off more than he already is,” said Danny, glaring at Jackson for a few seconds before giving back his attention to his alpha. 

All ears, except Derek’s perked up when Stiles popped the brownies into the oven. “We’re not leaving this room until you tell me what’s going on,” he crossed his arms, obviously refusing to leave from the spot he was standing on, between his betas and the door. 

“But there really is nothing going on,” Erica finally spoke up. “We’re just behaved like you said because Stiles isn’t going to accept any of our breakfast, lunch and dinner requests if we’re not behaved!” 

Derek stared at her. There were a few moments of silence before he turned to Scott and Jackson. “So you two helped with the groceries,” he turned back to Erica and Isaac, “And you two helped restock the pantry because Stiles isn’t going to cook if you misbehave?” 

“He isn’t going to cook, clean the house--” started Jackson. 

“Or help us with homework--” continued Scott. 

“Or help us with the laundry--” added Erica. 

“Or drive us to school!” Isaac finished. 

And most of them spent most of the week here, in their den and not in their own homes. Derek hadn’t realized how much work Stiles did until they spoke. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the order, and of course the silence, but how the hell did Stiles manage that? 

“Basically, Stiles isn’t really going to do anything if we get into a brawl,” Boyd finally spoke. He set aside the book he was reading. “The deal was that if we—meaning Scott, Jackson and Erica—behave, we’d get turns asking for what we want for breakfast, lunch, dinner and post training snacks.” 

“Do you even know why Stiles agreed to have that barbecue tomorrow night?” said Jackson. Derek didn’t even flinch and waited for Jackson to continue. “And it’s not because it’s Saturday Pack Night or what Lydia and Allison’s been making up. It’s because Isaac got an A on our English test last Wednesday.” 

Derek raised a brow and turned to Scott. “And how did the rest of you do on that exam?” They took turns to answer. Boyd, Jackson, Danny, Isaac and Erica all got As. “And you?” he looked at Scott. Of course he was concerned with their academics. He had already watched a lifetime’s worth of lacrosse since most of the pack was in the team, and he’d already gone to two of Isaac’s PTAs. 

(A/N: I’m not sure how academic grading goes in the US, so I’ll take it that C is like above passing.)

“He got a C.” Jackson answered for him, since Scott looked like his tail was between his legs and his ears low. “Which also why _his_ butterscotch brownies won’t have ice cream on it like everybody else’s,” Jackson sounded like he had won something by the way he told Derek that Scott had almost failed another exam. 

Derek just nodded. “Let’s add to Stiles’ rules. No cookies or scones, for anyone who gets anything below a B.” he gave a smirk as he opened the living room doors. Besides, when Stiles made cookies or scones they were gone in practically five seconds. So maybe, yes, he was giving the members of his pack a reason to study harder. 

“WHAT?!” Scott was the only one who reacted. Everybody had been doing well except him. 

“I’m sure Stiles will agree to that since, well,” Derek stood at the door’s threshold. “He technically tutors everyone even though Danny, Jackson and Boyd don’t need tutoring.” He left the living room. 

“Man,” Jackson squeezed Scott’s shoulder. “You are going to starve, McCall,” 

“I’m going to starve,” Scott repeated miserably as every other beta in the room went back to their own business. “I’m going to starve,” 

~*~*~*~

“You are a genius,” said Derek as he entered the kitchen, watching Stiles dress the chicken. 

“Of course I am,” said Stiles, clearing up the counter of the utensils he had used in making the brownies so that he could start on the pasta and chicken. “Wait, what were we talking about?” he looked at Derek after he put the bowls in the dishwasher. “Oh my god, you’re smiling. What happened? Did you have some world domination plan that worked or something? Holy shit, how am I going to explain that to my dad?” 

Derek approached Stiles and had him back up onto the counter. Stiles was forced to lift himself up on the marble top. Derek let himself in Stiles’ slightly spread legs, scrunching up the blue apron to Stile’s crotch, and leaned in for a kiss. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders, one hand combing through the hair on the back of Derek’s head. Derek’s hands, however, were on the counter. Touching Stiles would probably be a bad idea. 

Stiles thought making out in the kitchen was hot, but not a good idea. It wasn’t a really that bad of an idea, but if they continued there wouldn’t be any food for dinner, but also a terrible idea because the others were all in the next room. So he put his hands on Derek’s chest, and gently brushed him away. “Okay, first, that was nice, but I’d rather we continue that later in a more appropriate location. Like your room. If you want to christen the kitchen, let’s do it some other time. Second, I need to get started on dinner because the pasta takes an hour to make, and there are hungry puppies in the living room. Third, we’re supposed to have a conversation about my ingenuity, which we rarely talk about. So I’d like to talk about how awesome I am now, thank you.” 

There was a pause from Derek. “I’m glad I chose you.” 

“I’m glad I chose me, too!” said Stiles. “For what, exactly? Come on, Derek. Could you please talk in complete sentences? Like, complete-complete, like tell me what you really wanna say. If it’s something you and the others talked about in the living room, I’m sorry I don’t have super hearing--”

“I’m glad I chose you as my mate,” said Derek, “As pack mom. You take care of them so wonderfully. Like it’s natural to you.” 

“Well, yeah, it’s natural,” Stiles shrugged a bit. “I have been taking care of my dad since my mom died, you know. It’s hard taking care of my dad, harder taking care of teenagers—oh god, imagine when we have children, Derek. I don’t want them to turn out like Scott who’s brain is always on vacation. Jesus, we have to make Scott stay away from our kids so they don’t get his stupidity—wait, is this about the cookie ban if they misbehave? Is that why you’re complimenting my parenting skills?” 

“I added a few more rules,” Derek buried his nose in the crook of Stiles’ neck once again. “No cookies or scones for anyone to gets below a B.” 

“Because Scott got a C in English?” Stiles put his arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. 

“Yes.” 

Stiles chuckled. “Alright, Papa Wolf. Join the puppies in the living room. I need to start cooking,” 

Derek let go. “I’ll be expecting something to happen in a more appropriate location like my room, Stiles.” He echoed Stiles’ words from earlier.

Stiles put out the pasta and the ground beef. “If you behave, I’ll even take charge.” He winked. 

Derek’s wolf howled.


End file.
